


The Day the World Went Away

by plastic_cello



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Violence, alien invasions, warfare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plastic_cello/pseuds/plastic_cello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>World War III has broken out on Earth, leaving them vulnerable to an inevitable alien invasion; which even the Avengers cannot withstand.  But there still might be hope left, if only Thor can raise an army and convince Loki to fight for the mortals he once tried to enslave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lambs to Slaughter

**Author's Note:**

> I really shouldn't be plunging head-first into another story (that's the last thing I need). However, I've hit a mental block in everything else I've been writing, so I thought I might as well give this a go.
> 
> And this story is named after Nine Inch Nails's song: "The Day the World Went Away".

* * *

 

**Prologue :: Lambs to Slaughter**

 

* * *

 

It was a rarity to come upon Loki in daylight hours. Thor had oftentimes sought out his brother for companionship when Asgard was bathed in the warmth of sunlight, but simply could not find him. The dusty and extensive royal libraries were always abandoned, beyond the scholars; the alchemy conservatories busy but absent of Loki's presence. The places, in which Loki once had taken solace in before his fall, were no longer places that he dwelled in.

Despite having vindicated himself by protecting Asgard from Malekith; Loki had chosen a life of self-imposed solitary confinement. He no longer mingled as he once had; nor would he feast at the royal table, unless persuaded by their mother to do so. But even then, Loki had a penchant for excusing himself midway through the meal, and disappearing once more into the folds of the shadows.

Perchance, due to the fact Thor had given up his search for his brother hours beforehand; he instead stumbled across his mother's courtyard, lit by ornamental lanterns and the twinkle of fireflies. Marble statues of beautiful maidens lined the pathway into the courtyard, amid shrubbery and flower beds of every color; reminiscent of the rainbow bridge that lied beyond the palace walls. Several fruit trees sprung up from the wet earth, canopying the many spots in which stone benches were erected, and made it a cool spot for the lazy summer afternoons.

Thor hadn't spent much time here since his boyhood; having favored the training grounds more as he grew. But he was lured into courtyard, despite the midnight hour. His footfall echoed hollowly off the polished rock, as the worries of the day overwhelmed him entirely. And that had been the reason for seeking out Loki in the first place; since he had realized that his company was no longer a desired commodity to his brother anymore.

Heimdall had reported to him about the disarray of Midgard. That the mortals had waged war upon one another, and used great weapons that destroyed much of their cities. What's more, other beings were boring down on the mortal realm, since their defenses were uncommonly low. Even his brothers in arms, the Avengers, were unable to handle the invasions; which foretold a bleak outcome for their realm as a whole.

Once he had been informed of the mayhem, Thor had sought out council with Odin; who had been reluctant to intervene. But he hadn't barred Thor from protecting Midgard, if he deemed it appropriate to do so. His father, however, would not permit an army to assist him (specifically if that riled other realms to join the fray). So Thor had asked for assistance from his friends and hoped to ask Loki too.

Mayhap that was an unwise decision; yet his brother had proven his worth against Malekith and had remained dutifully loyal to Asgard ever since. Even Loki's mischievous acts had been contained, which had put the common folk somewhat at ease; although many were still wary of Loki's presence nonetheless.

Loki too appeared to have his reservations about remaining in Asgard. Thor had learned some time ago that Loki had formally asked for the All-Father's blessing to leave Asgard and instead live amongst the light elves in Alfheim; whom apparently had offered Loki refuge for one reason or another (none of which Thor was privy to).

The plea had been rejected, though. Odin had yet to trust Loki and believe his destruction had come to an end; therefore, he would remain within Asgard until he had been convinced otherwise. In which case, Thor assumed aiding Midgard would prove to be beneficial to his brother; especially if he was determined to live elsewhere, although it pained Thor to think of life without Loki again.

Yet he was living without Loki currently. His brother was farther away than he had been while lost to the abyss; Loki was no more than a specter that wandered the royal halls. He was no longer the cunning but harmless companion that he once was; instead Loki was brooding and enigmatic and capable of travesties beyond imagination.

As Thor wound his way through the courtyard, he was struck by melancholy so great that he almost disregarded the emerald green orb that hovered midair beside a cloaked figure, underneath a grand tree whose branches were covered in lush pink blossoms. He paused for a split-second, before his hand reached for Mjölnir that was strapped to his side. But he soon relaxed as he recognized Loki's pallor and tousled long black hair.

Loki wore a black cloak, held closed by a silver serpent pin; the cowl was pushed back and sat between his shoulders blades, although from the disarray of his hair; he had been wearing it sometime earlier. A dusty tome sat in his lap, and he had bent his head to read from it; unmoving even by the commotion that Thor carried himself with.

"Such a late hour for a crowned prince to wander the royal halls," Loki uttered lowly in his newfound need to belittle Thor's royal blood; which, despite whatever Loki may say, was still his own.

"I had a lot to ponder, Loki." He admitted, although knew better than to ask to join him on the bench. "And I was in search of you as well."

"I quiver in anticipation to know why."

"I have a favor to ask of you." Thor slowly allowed his hand to slide away from Mjölnir's hilt, which seemed to draw Loki's attention away from his tome.

Loki was much thinner and paler than he had been, even while in captivity. But his eyes were brighter and danced as the emerald orb above his head did. His eyes were filled with curiosity but also contained fury and potential malice. Some would call his insanity beautiful; Thor had heard Fandral say so in passing, but under hushed tones in which he thought he would not be heard.

However, Loki's madness was less beautiful to him and by far more entrancing instead. He wondered what could possibly be running rampant in his brother's head, and if it was only blackness and disease that grew there now.

"Ask your favor, crowned prince. For I can surely reject it and return to my studies."

"Loki do not jest with me like that."

"Jests are meant to be funny; truth is not funny. Although one could argue my continued existence within the realm of Aesir is the greatest jest of all." Loki narrowed his eyes into small, indiscernible slits. "Now speak, Thor before I grow weary of niceties."

"I come to you for help, as I had with Malekith." Thor refused to take his gaze away from Loki, lest he show his unease by coming to him for help once more. "Midgard is in peril, and as the protector of their realm; I intend on lending my strength to them, as will Lady Sif and the Warriors Three."

Silence fell between them; a heavy weight that hadn't existed between them before. Not since Loki's true lineage had been revealed, and he'd gone half-mad with the knowledge of it. In that moment, they seemed to be strangers; Loki was only a parody of his former self, and Thor was likewise. They had grown into one another; Loki ready to go to war, while Thor thought more logically of such.

"Midgard lies in peril and you've chosen to request my help?" Loki eyed him suspiciously. "I presume the All-Father would not lend you his men, if you have chosen to foolishly come to me. Malekith was a different story altogether; as you know if Asgard had fallen so would I. But Midgard; I tried to rule that sniveling little realm, and whether or not they thrive hardly matters to me."

"They have waged war amongst themselves, and they are now at their most vulnerable; so others have chosen to attack them."

"And yet your mighty band of heroes believed that Midgard should not be ruled. That they were more than capable of governing themselves; but here you are, telling me otherwise."

"You were not their rightful ruler." Thor said firmly.

"Oh yes, you are right." Loki chuckled, before plucking the emerald orb from its place overhead, and manipulating it between both hands; until it began to grow larger and roar with magic. "So do not insult me by asking for my help. The affairs of mortals mean nothing to me; I am not their protector and I am not their ruler, and I have no debt to repay to them. I paid for it with my imprisonment and a long drawn out battle with the dark elves."

"So you refuse me?"

"I refuse you, crowned prince." Loki spat venomously, as his hands continued to manipulate the emerald orb into manic ball of energy that lit his face unbecomingly. "Do not insult me with your affairs ever again. I have proven my loyalty to Asgard and I owe you nothing more."

"Even if this could only strengthen your bid to leave for Alfheim," Thor noticed the power of his words, once Loki's hands drew to a stop; no longer causing the emerald orb to grow.

They stared at one another for some time; neither daring to speak just yet. Thor could almost see the thoughts churning in his brother's head; in a way that he had grown accustomed to over the many thousands of years of life they spent with one another. From a very young age, Loki had been known for his thoughtfulness and calculation; as opposed to Thor's rashness and impulsivity.

"You'll do well to keep out of my business, _brother_." Loki almost whispered, but the quiet of the night carried his voice. "And I'll do well to keep out of yours. So the answer's the same – I refuse. Let your mortal realm burn to the ground, and I hope your mortal woman and your allies go up in flames too."

The malice in Loki seemed to burn as brightly as hundreds of suns; as hot as the green flames in which he birthed from the energy within him. And as if to strengthen his words further; the orb split between Loki's hands and roared with such heat, that Thor staggered backwards into a nearby tree to ward away the possibility of being burned.

Perspiration slid down the side of his face and his heart pounded erratically in his chest. He could feel the anger roll off of Loki still; real and palpable, and dangerous enough to wound if not kill. He should have known better than to ask for Loki's help, despite what appeared to be his dormant nature of late.

"You remain the same, Loki." Thor pushed away from the rough bark of the tree, and backed away in the direction that he came. "Vicious and mad,"

"One would say I am you then, dearest brother. The rightful heir to the throne."

"Remain with your madness and your hate." Thor turned away slowly and strode up the pathway.

"Regardless of your help, all hope is lost." Loki called after him, almost giddy. "You have proven a worthy protector for the mortal realm, dearest brother. Seeing as you led them all to ruin like lambs to slaughter. And it would have never happened, had they been ruled by me."

Those words prickled and stuck to Thor, as he stormed away; words that he undoubtedly knew were true, and he loathed Loki for his honesty rather than his falsehoods for the first time in thousands of years.


	2. Chapter One :: Hopelessness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I was inspired to write this after watching the Thor: The Dark World trailer, but I was so. So here it is.

* * *

 

**Chapter One :: Hopelessness**

 

* * *

 

Soot fell from the sky like swollen snowflakes. It smelled like burnt flesh, sulfur, and decay. The city had been this way for ages, maybe years; Tony couldn't tell and he hated to be reminded of the dates when the whole world went mad. He just knew that he was lucky to have a tower still, that it hadn't been hollowed out by fire like most of the surrounding buildings had.

Lucky but by no means fortunate; he might have had his tech and a secure place to sleep. But everything else was uncertain; a battlefield that had yet to be fought on. And god only knew when the next missile would strike, when the next nuke might fall, or when another alien invasion would commence.

Life was a big uncertainty; an open ended question of when he would finally die. Or for that matter, when someone close to him would. His luck was bound to turn; he lived a charmed life for far too many years, and while he suffered extreme hardships along the way, it seemed only appropriate for something tragic to happen sooner than later.

"Nothing worth reporting," Tony said across the transmission system. "A few looters, but really what could they find in Midtown anymore; you know aside from charred TVs and a couple of corpses."

"Same on this end," Clint Barton echoed in return; somewhere hidden amid the rooftops. "None of our alien assholes around; maybe they figured this whole invasion thing is futile."

"We'd only be so lucky." Steve Rogers answered with a weary sigh.

They were all tired, though. Too many people had died, too many cities had been destroyed, and there wasn't any end in sight. There were too many politicians still wanting to advance the war; to align themselves with whatever fell out of the sky as opposed to their fellow human being. And there was nothing or no one who would convince them otherwise.

SHIELD had tried; Tony had tried even, only to be chided by every branch of the military for not providing any backup against their foes. Not to mention the perpetual hounding he received about returning to the weapon business, since Stark weapons were bound to win them the war in the long run.

Except he hadn't caved, and had become a vilified scapegoat for the destruction that struck many of the country's largest cities; which included New York City, Boston, Los Angeles, and even Dallas. Washington D. C. had only been spared, due in part to the heavy security that been erected around the capital; although it too was bound to fall, especially if their extraterrestrial visitors decided they wanted to reenact _Independence Day_.

"We should move out; there's nothing to see here." Steve spoke again. "Natasha, do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Captain." Natasha returned without any hesitation, but far more detached than she was normally.

Tony hadn't asked, since he had his own problems to worry about; and he knew Natasha wouldn't be forthcoming with any information to him of all people. Speculation had run rampant between their teammates, before Clint begrudgingly mentioned something about a former colleague of Natasha's that had been drawn into some unsavory acts of war. No less on the side, who had helped bomb New York.

"Let's head back to headquarters then." Steve announced in his take-charge voice.

"Aye, aye, Cap." Tony kicked off the debris littered avenue, and shot off into the soot flakes; that originated from many of the high-rises and skyscrapers in the area.

At one point, so long ago, Tony had reveled in flying in between buildings and through the city haze to find the stars. Now, however, there was only dejection; there wasn't anything worthwhile in the sky to look at, especially since there only seemed to be attacks that rained down on them from above.

Veering through the many dilapidated and charred buildings, Tony tried not to let the heaviness of the situation weigh him down. He had spent too many sleepless nights trying to find a feasible solution for the problem, without having to resort to unnecessary means. But he soon realized that that wasn't an option; it hadn't been one from the start.

Blood shed was inevitable, death and destruction too. With that grim thought in mind, he had secretly gone to work on projects he had promised he'd never work on again. Weapon making had almost killed him the last time around, and yet without any heavy weaponry the world might as well kiss their asses goodbye.

Tony had been very careful about his many projects. No one knew of them either. His fellow Avengers, SHIELD, and even Rhodey and Pepper were in the dark about them; and that's how he hoped it would stay, until worse came to worse. Which only meant there weren't any other alternatives, that they were in so much peril that nuclear warfare was the only reasonable approach.

He just hoped it never came to that, despite the hopelessness having already set in. Hell, he had felt hopeless for so long now, everything else was secondary in comparison. Nothing truly mattered beyond the human race's continued survival, even if most of the people in charge of that task were only sending them farther and farther down into the ground.

"Fucking politicians," Tony grumbled; an insult that had become a mantra of sorts of late.

Most people had adopted a similar mindset, and yet it hadn't changed much of anything. Tony would have thought that a potential alien enslavement would have been incentive enough to get the human race on the same page, considering what had happened several years beforehand with a crazy Norse god with a disco stick of destiny. But apparently everyone had very short-term memories and had totally forgotten about that, and preferred to try and appeal to the alien invaders instead.

Nick Fury had admitted the United States, China, and Russia had tried to make treaties with the extraterrestrials of the day. The outcome was uncertain, though; Tony imagined all attempts had been for naught, seeing as they had been attacked many times after all these appeals to join forces had been presented to the invaders.

Tony suspected if this war continued any longer, he would be forced to use his small arsenal of weaponry to even the playing field; while also simultaneously destroying a good portion of the civilized world too. People would die, more than they already had. No one would be safe, beyond a very choice number; Tony wouldn't be one of them either.

He couldn't live with himself, once he unleashed that kind of mayhem onto the planet. Regardless of the fact, his fellow human beings had already done far worse by comparison. He liked to think that he had some kind of conscious, though; that blatant destruction was something he couldn't ignore once peace had been restored. He just wasn't that type of person anymore.

Stark Tower slowly came into view; a beacon of light amid the broken city. Some of the surrounding buildings had been spared as well, but the looters had gotten into them and defaced many of them. Stark Tower, on the other hand, had high-tech security and had gone into lockdown mode and stayed that way twenty-four hours day; only to be opened for several minutes, to permit authorized personnel in and out of the building.

Tony lessened the speed of his flight as he drew closer, until he hovered above the launch pad that had seen better days. Soot and debris was caked on everything in sight; the mechanical arms had to have maintenance done once a week to ensure their continued functionality as well.

Once he landed, the whirl of machinery cut through the eerie silence across the city. His armor was pulled off bit by bit; a smooth transition, that eventually left him vulnerable to the elements. And no one wanted to breathe in the air nowadays, unless you had some sort of a death wish; which a lot of people had.

Striding inside, Tony ran his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. His whole body was covered in sweat too, even though they had barely ventured out into the city. The threat of another bomb or missile hitting at any time had the ability to make anyone sweat profusely, though.

"How is it out there?" Beyond the wet bar and on the other end of the lounge, Pepper was perched in an arm chair with her Stark Pad in both her hands.

"Same as always; some looters were sniffing around, but there's nothing left to steal." He collapsed onto the couch with a strained groan. "Nothing sci-fi going on, at least."

"I hate when you leave the tower."

"Hey, someone has to do it. You know there might only be five of us, but we're making it work somehow."

"You shouldn't have to, though." Pepper insisted glumly, but the argument was moot.

While several countries had taken an offensive stance against the alien invasions; there were still too little of them to make an impact. But Tony was happy for any sort of backup, SHIELD included.

"Well, who else is going to do it, Pepper?" He sank deeper into the cushions. "The U. S. government has shown its competency already. They're trying to make allies out of an alien race, hell bent on destroying the planet. Why? Because they're in the middle of an unwinnable war with a good portion of the world, which could be said about a half a dozen other countries too,"

"It's hopeless, isn't it? I try to imagine a scenario where things end up turning out well. But I can't Tony and that's terrifying."

"Pepper, you know I won't let anything hurt you." Tony pinned her with a serious stare; while they had called off their relationship months ago, that didn't mean he cared any less about her, and wouldn't put his hide on the line for her well-being. "Space aliens, nuclear weapons, the U. S. government, or even a stray spider in the bathtub. I'll keep you safe from it all and that's a promise."

Before Pepper could reply in kind, JARVIS cut in primly to announce the arrival of the other Avengers. SHIELD had provided them with a bulletproof van that Natasha usually piloted; there had also been discussions of passing along a jet into their hands, but so far they hadn't needed anything of that magnitude of yet.

And well, SHIELD needed all the firepower they could get anyway. If they really needed a plane, Tony would be more than happy to provide it; unless, of course, his private arsenal had been destroyed already. Much of his belongings had gone unaccounted for, since he couldn't bear to send Pepper in pursuit of them; not if it meant her life was in the balance over something that unimportant.

"No reason to worry, everyone's safe and sound." Tony smiled at Pepper, but didn't receive the same in turn; she still looked worry.

"You haven't been getting any sleep; I can tell."

"Come to bed with me, and maybe that'll help."

"You have to be kidding me." Pepper rolled her eyes dramatically, but maintained her serious façade.

"Hey, I have to at least try. But even if we did go to bed together, you'd have to do most of the work; I'm pretty exhausted here." He lifted both arms and dropped them back down limply to illustrate his point better.

She muttered something indiscernible underneath her breath, before setting aside her Stark Pad onto the coffee table, and standing. It only took five steps or so, for her to cross the distance between them, and offer him a hand.

"Come on then."

"Don't toy with me, you minx."

"The great Tony Stark just declared that he'd protect me no matter what. The least I could do is help him sleep some; you know so he's sharp enough to face any enemy that falls out of the sky."

"Or takes up space in the capital, more specifically the Oval Office," he took her hand with a sly smile. "You know Virginia, I love when you take control; that's always been my favorite position."

It took a moment or two, before he managed to get back onto his feet again; but he was more than eager to follow Pepper down the hallway to the master suite. It would serve to be a good distraction from all the chaos that they both had to face on a daily basis; although Tony imagined Pepper was going stir-crazy from being stuck in the tower all the time, even if it was in her best interest (which they both begrudgingly agreed upon).

Half an hour without any worries would be sufficient enough for the both of them. Tony also needed some rest, until he decided to plunge himself head-first into his other projects; the ones that would ensure Pepper would be safe. And that was the only benefit of them really; if he could do anything, he could make sure that Pepper was safe. Nothing else mattered in comparison, even his own life.


	3. Chapter Two :: The Monster & the Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really to say, except that I hope you enjoy this.

* * *

 

**Chapter Two :: The Monster & the Queen**

 

* * *

 

It was the twilight hour; an uncommon time to march for war. Thor and his fellow warriors were not particularly well-versed in the art of war; the strategic side of it anyway. But Loki found their efforts admirable nonetheless; Thor was at least attempting to surprise the enemy by departing under the veil of darkness.

They had already mounted their steeds, suited in their armor and cloaked by their mantles. If he had chosen that path, Loki too would be amongst them; heavy in his leathers and armed with his many sharp-edged daggers. It would have been like it once was, before he had become only the shadow of what he once was.

He found no amusement in unearthing old wounds, though. His last campaign had been a mockery of such; Thor had had chosen to foolishly stage an attack on Jotunheim, which had led to many unforeseen troubles along the way. Troubles that had led Loki astray, although he would not apologize for them; even if he was hard pressed to do so.

Regret proved only to be a deterrent; he couldn't change his fate. He was bound to his madness now, and the monstrosity of his lineage. While the glamour remained to hide his grotesque birthright, he had come to realize that ice ran through his veins. That the tepid weather of Asgard did him no favors, and left him perspiring and worn with each passing moment.

He hadn't noticed his distaste for warmth, until he learned he was a wolf in sheep's clothing; the bane of the realm, who would be chained and ridiculed further if it hadn't been for the All-Father and his kin. Mayhap, all of Asgard would have insisted on a public execution; wherein they would hunt him down as if he were an unsophisticated beast, and mount his head on the golden spires of the castle.

The simplest murmur of his parentage would invoke their already inflamed loathing for him. If the All-Father deemed it necessary to further his punishments, despite paying his dues in the battle against Malekith, then he would face a painful and brutal end. One in which, he could only fear.

The Aesir had no love for him; his trickery and mischief had reaped many enemies. Whilst his prior, no less short lived, time on the throne had only ignited further loathing and hatred. His actions on Midgard hadn't garnered him any further fanfare either, yet at least he wasn't utterly condemned for those crimes.

His crimes against the mortals were inconsequential to the majority of Asgard. What they truly held a grudge over was his blatant underhandedness to sit the throne; although that couldn't have been further from the truth. He hadn't desired a throne, hadn't even entertained the notion beyond a whimsical dream or two in his boyhood. But his truth would only be viewed as another lie.

Loki continued to watch his former companions, as they readied themselves to cross the Bifrost; which glistened and shone despite the purple hue of the sky. The rainbow bridge had only just been repaired, after Thor's idiotic and desperate decision to destroy it with Mjölnir. And yet, Loki had borne the blame for it also; after all, if it hadn't been for him, Thor wouldn't have had to act so rashly.

Despite his frequency to drench himself in bitterness, he dismissed those recollections from his mind. In fact, he had to once he felt a lingering but very familiar presence behind him. He turned sharply, clenching the stone balustrade of his balcony with one hand, and gazed upon the woman who dared to breech his privacy.

"Did you bid your brother goodbye?" His mother asked, although she certainly knew the answer already.

"Why bid Thor goodbye, when he'll return with his tail between his legs within a matter of time?" He arched an eyebrow, before returning his eyes onto Thor and his companions that were now riding hastily across the Bifrost.

As he had previously told Thor when he had sought his help, Loki knew the futility of rushing to help the mortal realm. They had effectively brought themselves to ruin, which could have been avoided had he been seated as their ruler. He would have ensured that any alien race wouldn't have even attempted to invade; not after the Chitauri anyway.

It wasn't meant to be, though. He wasn't built to sit a throne, despite his birthright. Regardless of his hatred for the blue of his skin and the red of his eyes, he was still made of royalty. But the likelihood of a mangled runt ruling Jotunheim was as possible, as it was for him to inherit the All-Father's seat.

"Your brother is valiant and kind-hearted, Loki." Frigga spoke once more, joining him on the balcony to watch the now distant forms of Thor and his companions ride away.

"Two distinct differences between him and me,"

"That couldn't be any further from the truth."

"Your beloved Thor hasn't invaded realms, slaughtered innocents for sport." He retorted bitterly.

Truth be told, Thor had committed travesties as they all had in war campaigns. Lest anyone forget, it had been Thor who had deemed it necessary to attack Jotunheim and face Laufey himself. He had earned his banishment well enough, even if his insufferable comrades believed otherwise.

"Loki, please."

"I won't minimize my own faults; no one else will, I am certain of that. So I will wear them as armor; proudly if I must."

"Your faults are yours alone, Loki." Frigga admitted without any accusation. "But I beg of you not to let them consume you entirely. The realm might view you as one with your sins, even your father and brother; yet that could be any further from the truth. You are my son and you are _not_ your faults."

Those honeyed words did nothing to soothe his disquiet. No words could possibly do that; not even his mother's sincerity could. After all, she was guilty as Odin for hiding his true parentage; for allowing the Aesir to stoke the fire of loathing for the Jotun monsters. She had withheld the truth from him, when she had every opportunity to do otherwise.

He had always been a monstrosity on the verge of being unleashed. And yet they withheld that knowledge from him, and only ensured that he would befall the ways of the Jotun. He inevitably became savage and uncivilized and blinded by need for war and chaos; when it could have been prevented somehow. _She_ could have stopped him.

Those thought only fueled the bitterness inside him further. His grip tightened on the balustrade, while inwardly cursing the House of Odin; turning his eyes skyward to cease from seeing his former brother race to the aid of a realm he had tried to rule, and would have certainly ruled fairly if given the chance.

"Did Thor come to you for aid?" Frigga spoke cautiously, as if she could sense the oncoming storm brewing inside of him.

"He may have." Loki sneered.

"You refused him; yet you stand here to see him off."

"I stand here to bid him farewell, yes. But I also stand here as a reminder of his inevitable failure. Whether or not I accompanied him in his foolhardy quest, Thor will only find failure. The mortal realm has chosen their own fate, and even the mighty Thor will not be enough to veer fate from its will."

"I'm not under any delusion that he can change fate; influence it though he may."

"He is of your blood." He chortled softly at that, but his distaste was palpable.

Without permission, his mother crossed the distance between them; practically bearing down on him. Her small hands gripped at his forearm like a vice; a reproach for his words, as if he was a godling still.

"Will you continue to punish me, Loki?"

"So long as I live in this false flesh, I assume so; I imagine the All-Father would be only too pleased to drop this glamour and expose me for the monster that I truly am by birth. But would his subjects take kindly to the royal family harboring such a miscreation?"

"Would you wish to live as you were born? Because that would be the only reason for your father to remove the spell,"

"He is _not_ my father." He couldn't withhold his snarl, although he managed not to wretch free of Frigga's hands.

Laufeyson was the name he'd chosen to adopt after his fall from grace. Odinson was not his name to keep; not when he was no true son of Odin. And he refused to live under such falsehoods; not when the greater portion of his existence had been a lie spun by the All-Father's hand.

Loki looked at Frigga sharply, dared her to contradict him as she was known to do. But words seemed to fail her, and she only stared at him with a helpless look on her face. It was the equivalent of one facing a mountain far too high to climb; being hopelessly stranded without any way to reach the other end. He was the obstacle that his mother could not overcome.

"I heard of your desire to travel to Alfheim." She said in a pained voice.

"Not only to travel there, but to remain there; yet the All-Father has rejected my plea. I am untrustworthy still, despite standing beside his son and defeating the likes of Malekith." He smiled sardonically then. "I haven't proven my worth yet. Or perhaps I never will because I am much too dangerous to be truly free again."

"Loki, I beg of you-"

"You are queen, you should not beg. If you wish to impose your will, demand it." Loki seethed and found his words were rewarded with a sudden sting of pain.

His head snapped ever-so-slightly to the side, due to the slap that Frigga had given him. An action he couldn't remember feeling beforehand, even at his most mischievous state. And while it certainly did not hurt or even wound him for that matter; he felt an uncanny sense of betrayal for her laying such a loathsome hand on him.

Fury enveloped his whole being, as he turned to meet her eyes that were ignited with so many emotions, it was impossible to discern one from the other. She was angry but saddened, and each emotion fought with the other for dominance.

"I may be a queen but firstly I am your mother." She said indignantly. "I will not impose my will upon you or demand anything of you, Loki. Nothing has changed between us; whether or not you have done many wrongs things is irrelevant to me. You are still my son, and you will do well to remember that."

Before he could say something in return, Frigga turned away from him and retreated back into his chambers. Her footfall was silent on the stone floor, but the sound of the doors heralding her exit was not. It was loud and final, as if he had effectively jailed himself within the confines of his own body for eternity, and lost some part of his godhood once more.

But he found no reason to mourn; he had mourned as he fell endlessly through the abyss, only to be rescued by the Mad Titan himself. There was no more sorrow in him left; he could only feel bitterness, the edge of madness even. Sadness was impossible to feel, though.

Turning his eyes skyward once more, Loki lost himself in the constellations and recited each quietly; until the knowledge dimmed and Thor's words returned to him like a red hot poker, that maybe his involvement in aiding Midgard would permit him leave to Alfheim. And for one foolish moment, he regretted his decision to deny his former brother of his help and run for his freedom.


End file.
